


The Only Voice

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Feels, Light Angst, Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts, Nightmares, Whispers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 07:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15335013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: Mycroft wakes from a nightmare. What can stop the voices in his head from tormenting him?





	The Only Voice

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts - this week's word: Whisper

“Then he’s very limited.”

_“This is my fault.”_

“Then you should have done better.”

“ _This is my fault.”_

“Am I being asked to prove my usefulness?”

_“THIS is my fault?”_

_“THIS IS my fault.”_

_“THIS IS MY FAULT!”_

 

The screaming voice shot Mycroft upright in the bed, hyperventilating.

He gritted his teeth to keep from screaming in life as he had in his head. He felt it in his bones.

It was bad.

It has been nearly a year since Sherrinford.  His parents had only started speaking to him again a few weeks ago. Only Sherlock had truly spoken with him after they were all off the island and their parents taken home. Mummy had at least clasped his hand again while his siblings played. It was a something, he supposed. Still, that  _concert_ with all of them together in Eurus’ cell was hard to say the least.

Was that really just yesterday? Less than twelve hours ago, let alone twenty-four.

He draws legs up in front of him and rest his forearms on the top his knees. His lowered head rests on his wrists as he stares at nothing, still breathing heavily.

After finally being able to look in a mirror again without some self-loathing, it was all washed away in that family visit. It was no wonder all of his insecurities were there to rear their ugly scorching breaths across his psyche tonight. The haunting sotto voce of all his failings repeating, reverberating, ricocheting in his mind. Always a murmur, a susurrus away.

He wondered when, if ever he would know calm, if not true peace, in his nights again when he felt a warm hand slide up his back and a warmer body rise to lean against his.

_Gregory._

The only truly good thing to have come out of that fiasco. Good enough that Mycroft would live through every tortuous moment of it again if it guaranteed in ending with what they have now.

“The voices again, love?” Greg’s sleepy gravel voice reached his ears.

Mycroft raised his head and nodded slowly, doing everything in his power to hold back the tears that wanted to fall. He failed.

“There’s only one voice you need to hear right now, that you need to listen to, to believe...” Greg said quietly.

“What voice is that?” Mycroft hated how weak his voice sounded to his own ears.

“Mine.” Greg reached up and wiped a tear away. “But you have to listen real close, okay?”

Mycroft nodded and leaned in closer.

“I love you.” Greg whispered softly and followed it with a chaste kiss.

“I love you.” He whispered a little louder and followed that with a longer kiss.

“I love you.” Greg increased the volume and the length of the kiss yet again.

Mycroft does not know when he laid back down as Greg repeated the whispers at different volumes and lengthened their kisses until love was all Mycroft heard in his mind and felt in his body as he drifted asleep again.

It was good.


End file.
